Noir
by metalguru
Summary: [KPxNoir,PostSTD] Flush with her new romance to Ron and victory over Drakken, Kim is looking forward to her future. However, her first mission back puts her on the trail of a hitwoman named Mireille Beaucoup, and the greatest assassin of them all: Noir.
1. Chapter 1

County Cork, Ireland

1986

The hallways of Macroom Castle were quiet at this time at night, the visitors and tourists long departed to the establishments the country was stereotypically most famous for, the pubs. The summer rains that had come in the afternoon had helped push out the stragglers and academics who saw the castles as more than just blots on the green horizon. The stone ramparts let off the heat, and the air was dank and muggy with the condensation of dew and the remains of the sweat of the tourists.

To the tourists, this castle was a monument to a forgotten era, a relic of how man once lived and how far he has come since. But, on this night, down the rear stairway, tucked behind the dungeons and sewers, inside the oldest part of the castle, a small group had converged who saw the castle as more than just a bunch of stone. For them, the castle was holy ground, one of few around the world, upon which a great task was laid down, a ceremony that had occurred many times before, and would most certainly occur again.

Down in the oldest and most sacred of the castle's battlements, seven people, some garbed in the brown robes of the ancient druids, others, observers, wearing the purple and white of their organization. At the center of the room, a large man, dressed in druid brown, and wearing the horns of a ram, stood at a small baptismal font filled with clear water. He raised his hands high into the air.

"Now, we begin the ceremony, much like our ancestors did before. Bring forth the selected child."

Amongst the small crowd, one, a petite woman dressed in the druid's robes, stepped forward. In her arms, wrapped in brown cloth, was a child; a girl, not more than a month old. Approaching the font, she started to extend her child to the priest, but hesitated for a moment.

The old druid looked nervously towards the few in purple and white, then whispered to the woman.

"This is a great honor, for all involved; you, your child, and the loyal of Ireland."

With no further hesitation, she handed the priest the baby. Scooping the baby out of her hands, he held her head close to the waters. Using a small stone cup, he filled it halfway with water, then poured it over the child's head. Raising the child in the air, all spoke as one.

"Noir: it is the name of an ancient fate, two maidens who govern death, the peace of the newly born, their black hands protect".

Lowering the child carefully, the priest handed her back to her mother. Not once had the child cried, an omen. This one would be strong.

"Now she is baptized in our way. Raise her well, so that she may someday carry out the will of God."

The mother bowed her head and accepted her child, cradling the baby in her arms.

The ceremony ended, all parties dropped the formality and began talking amongst each other. Four of the druids had gathered around the old priest, talking quietly.

The mother and child were being doted on by two of the members in purple and white, both women. Only one stood off.

She was a woman in her early twenties, yet in her organization there was already talk of her going far. She had long brown hair, fair temperament, and always wore a slight smile on her face.

She approached the old druid. The four other druids gave her dirty looks, but the old priest never lifted his smile.

"Why, Altena," he said, "thank you for approving this ceremony. We are deeply honored, but we must ask; is this truly necessary? Is not Noir sated?"

The woman gave a little chuckle, one that was more sinister than humorous.

"As you will all soon see, Noir is delicate. The corruptions of the enemies of God infest even our own members. The Great Return will take place, no matter what the cost. Fare thee well, father."

Leaving the men, Altena approached the mother.

"Good evening, Molly."

Molly did not smile, nor show any sign that she enjoyed the younger woman's company.

"Altena."

Altena gently reached out and stroked the child's head.

"What is the child's name?"

Confused at the context of the question, Molly began to speak the words she had spoken many times in the past.

"She is called-"

Altena stopped her with the wave of a hand, rephrasing the question.

"I know what she is called. I asked what her name is."

Molly hesitated a moment, then answered her question.

"Her name is…"

* * *

"Thank you," whispered Altena. "I wish you both well, daughters of Ireland. _Never…_deter from the cause."

With that cryptic statement, Altena turned and headed up the stairs, passing out of the tightly sealed mildew-smelling air and into the muggy outer walls of the castle. Up at the top of the staircase, sitting on a small wooden bench, was a girl about three years old, playing with a small knife. Upon seeing Altena, the girl became elated, and ran to her superior, hugging the older woman as tight as she could. She had short crimson hair and eyes that could fill with much joy. Altena stroked her hair.

"Did you get bored, my Chloe?"

The girl shook her head.

"No, Altena. I was playing with the present you gave me. Look what I can do!"

She twirled the dagger in her fingers, spinning it quickly from tip to tip.

"Very good, Chloe. Perhaps someday you can teach it to our newest member."

With the mention of the new child, Chloe's joy turned to utter hatred.

"She does not belong. I want to strangle her, Altena."

Altena pressed a finger against Chloe's nose. Even when punishing, Altena smiled.

"Now, now Chloe. She is an innocent. In time, you will come to protect the innocent and punish the wicked, as will she. It will all be made clear to you when you meet Noir."

At the thought of meeting one such as Noir, the child's eyes lit up.

"When will I meet Noir, Altena?"

"Very soon, actually. We're heading to Corsica tomorrow."

Present Day

Kim opened her eyes groggily, letting the sun filter in to her eyes which had not gotten enough sleep over the past night. Not that it was a bad thing. On the floor still lay her prom dress, the charred end of it still tattered and destroyed, an eyesore to anyone who laid eyes on it. And she would cherish it forever.

Last night was the greatest night so far of Kim's short but eventful life. In one night, she had stopped her greatest foe in the middle of his greatest scheme. Okay, so maybe trying to take over the world using small little Diablo toys distributed from Bueno Nacho was a bit lame, but Drakken had almost pulled it off. Almost. Plus, Kim had knocked Shego's block off, once and for all. Never again would she question who was better.

Then, she had gone to the prom with her true one and only. Not someone with whom she was a bit interested in. Not someone whom she had a crush on. Her true love, if there ever was truth to those words, the one whom had been behind her the whole time, who caught her when she fell (or was it vice-versa, and she was just feeling romantic). Nonetheless, her sidekick… well, he was no longer her sidekick.

Despite getting shown up by Kim and Ron, and on top of things getting dumped by Brick for Monique, Bonnie had swallowed her pride and allowed everyone to come over to her lake-side vacation house for the after-party, where Kim and Ron had quickly grabbed a room and ahem made good on their new love. While Ron was no longer her sidekick, he had been behind her again last night… and on top, and beneath, etc.

Looking at her new love, snoring peacefully in their bed, Kim felt that the future was bright indeed. This summer would be the greatest of their lives.

Middleton County Lock-Up for the Criminally Lame

The guard walked down the brightly lit hallway, carrying a single package under his left arm. Normally, prisoners got their mail at a certain time of the day, but this package was…special. Though he was just a pawn, not even close to those who considered themselves not just the kings and queens, but rather the hand that moved each piece, he felt honored…no, privileged, for what he was about to set into motion.

Reaching the correct cell, he knocked on the door and opened the safety bin that only opened one way at the time, tossing in the package.

"Prisoner 158u378385, Shego. Mail Call!"

Staring in the mirror provided in her cell, Shego tried desperately to fix her usually long and svelte hair, now frizzled and fried from the battle atop Bueno Nacho HQ last night, where Kim had unceremoniously kicked her into the control tower, destroying Dr. D's plans once again and giving her the worst hair day ever in the history of woman. Groaning, she walked over to the bin, reaching inside and grabbing the package, then retreating back onto her cot, hoping no one got a glimpse of her current situation, because if the Seniors or Duff ever saw her like this, they would never let her live it down.

Looking at the package, Shego realized for the first time that nobody ever sent her packages. Or mail, for that matter. Her brothers wrote stupid letters ever now and then, but being on the run, with mercenary work on the side, kept a girl busy and out of touch. There was no way a letter could have gotten to her this fast. So who could be sending…

Ripping open the package, a single object fell out into Shego's hands. Instantly, her eyes went wide with horror, and she dropped it to the floor. It rolled on the ground before coming a stop a few inches from her feet.

It was pocketwatch. A silver one, old and beaten, like it had seen many hardships. Carved on the side was the outline of two women, dressed in robes that looked like they came from Ancient Greece, holding swords parallel to one another.

The pocketwatch opened, and a haunting melody played. Shego fell onto her cot, cradling her legs in her arms.

"No, no." Shego cried softly, on the verge of tears. "How did they find me? It can't be starting. Not now."

The pocketwatch played its sorrowful melody to the full, then repeated it once again.

_Le Grand Retour_.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay…hey."

"Right there?"

"No, a little lower."

"Should I…is this…"

"Here, let me…right there…it's…"

Like all couples on their first few attempts at being hot and heavy, Ron and Kim were struggling a bit in their third 'official' make-out session, the first being at the end of the prom, the second one that night. In Kim's room right now, still almost completely clothed, while amateurs, they were making headway.

From outside the door, a light-hearted voice called out to them.

"Ron, Kimmie, I'd like to show you something!"

Ron and Kim separated almost instantaneously, trying to control their breathing and wipe down the little beads of sweat off their brows as Mrs. Possible stepped into the room carrying a large leather-bound photo book. Though the two intrepid teens tried to play off their clandestine activities, glad that they weren't caught in the act, they had no idea that this little interruption was a carefully planned 'mom' intervention, one that good moms did despite teenage aversions to authority. She had been a teenager herself, once. She knew what was up.

Plopping down on the bed between her redhead daughter and her blond boyfriend, Mrs. Possible flipped the photo album open.

"Kimmie, I was just cleaning the house and look what I found! The complete Possible family album. I thought it would be nice to look through it. "

Her tone of voice didn't convince Kim or Ron at all. Mrs. Possible managed a fake smile to counter their annoyed glances at one another.

Trying to lighten the mood, Ron pointed at the album and joked.

"Gonna show us some of Kim's baby pictures, Mrs. Dr. P?"

Despite the fact that Ron had long seen Kim's baby pictures, they were still a hoot to look at. Even as a baby, she had been a rabble-rouser, driving her parents crazy, and they had the pictures (and bills) to prove it.

Mrs. Possible opened the book and flipped through a few pages, stopping to explain every couple of shots. On page four were pictures of Kim at age three, learning gymnastics, including a couple of 'flub' shots.

"Kimmie had so much trouble at first. She actually wanted to quit and just play all day with her dolls."

"Mom!"

Ron smiled. _You look at her now, you'd think she was a natural from day one. Who knew the great Kim Possible once couldn't even do a cartwheel?_

Next were shots of the twins' after they were born, Kim and her father at the charter lab before he was hired at the Space Center, the twins' third birthday (somehow, they had built a catapult out of legos and proceeded to fire birthday cake at Mr. Johansen's dog), Kim in middle school and her first day at high school.

The last picture was one which Kim and Ron would treasure forever. It was a picture that Mr. Possible had taken at Bueno Nacho at Ron's unofficial after-prom party. They had been sitting in their favorite booth with all their friends; Kim, her back turned to the camera, her neck craned around the side of the booth, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Monique was next to her in the booth, turned all the way and smiling at the camera. Ron was across from Kim, caught on the verge of scarfing down a massive burrito, some of which came home with him via his prom suit. Next to him was Bonnie, who had reluctantly joined them and looked like she had eaten a sour pickle. Brick was in the booth behind them with Tara and the other cheerleaders, everyone smiling and waving for the shot. Last but not least, Rufus used the shot to steal everyone's nacos.

"That was a great night." said Ron, looking dreamily at Kim.

"Um-hum." Kim nodded back.

Mrs. Dr. Possible cleared her throat.

"Well, continuing on…" She flipped to the next page, which had in big embossed letters, **Possible Family History**. "This section contains the entire Possible family lineage, starting with Lord Possible during the Napoleonic wars. The son of an English Lord, he was raising troops in Ireland when, like a fairy tale, he was struck blind with love by a lowly Irish girl named Kimberly. You're named after her, Kim."

A painting of the two was on the very first page, Lord Possible in his regal English officer clothes, his wife dressed lavishly, her hair curled and teased to the fashion of the day. They both looked so beautiful, and the fact that Lady Kim's heritage was of a farming community, the fact that she wore such beautiful clothing hinted at her husband's devotion to her.

"Next, there's Bryon and Byron Possible, two brothers who thought they could build a ship that travels through the air. Their claim to fame is that they created the first parachute. Then, there's Anya Possible, the only woman to ride with Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders up San Juan Hill. Of course, there's your great-grandmother Lim and her sister Mim."

Kim and Ron laughed at the memory of what they went through (or thought they did) in order to clear Mim's name. They still hadn't figured out if what happened truly did happen, but they did learn a lot about Ronnicus in the process.

The next few pages were black and white photographs from the World War II era, starring none other than Nana Possible herself. She looked so much like Kim it was scary.

"…here's Nana Possible with Admiral Kaufmann, though he was a Commander at the time, and Major Barkin and Lt. Mankey with the 501st Middleton during the Battle of the Bulge. And here…"

Ron's eyes opened wide at the next picture. Nana Possible was standing in front of a B-17 bomber with someone who looked like the spitting image of Ron.

"Who the heck is that?" Ron was astounded.

Mrs. Dr. Possible got a dreamy look in her eyes, like she was thinking about a romantic love story.

"I was amazed when I realized how much these two look like you and Kim, Ron. Mr. Possible told me the story surrounding these two. Nana Possible was a free spirit who left home at age fourteen and didn't come back till her sons needed to go to college. For twenty years, she traveled the globe. Through this entire time, she only loved two men. The first was during the war. His name was Jonathan Robert Stoppable, your great-great-uncle, Ron. He was a bombardier at the start of the war, but later he and Nana were drafted into the OSS. They fell in love and planned to marry, but his plane went down near the end of the war and he was never seen again. Nana was so upset that she left the Navy and traveled to Burma. And there, well…"

Kim and Ron had long forgotten about Mrs. Possible's intrusion on their private time, as both were captivated by this story, Ron for the action, Kim for the romance (and the action).

"Well, what? What happened? Who was her second love?"

Mrs. Possible blushed a little bit.

"Her second love was with a much older man whom she met exploring the temples in Burma. He was an archaeologist, though his version of archaeology was more down and dirty than most people think. She was instantly captivated by him, and became his assistant, and …um…lover. They had a whirlwind romance across the world; dancing in Paris, dinners in Rome, rafting down the Nile, running from Stalin's troops in Siberia."

Kim was amazed, even more so than when they she had first realized her Nana was more than she seemed.

"She later gave birth to a son, your father, James Timothy Possible. However, she and your grandfather never married."

"What was his name?" Ron asked, hoping maybe it involved his family.

"I think it was Jones. Anyway, your grandfather went on an expedition and never returned. Nana finally decided it was time to settle down and moved back to her family's ranch. Against her better judgment, she bought a TV in 1969. The next day was the landing of Apollo 11 on the moon, and your father, thirteen years old at the time, would never be the same again."

She flipped over to the next page, which ended the Possible family lineage. However, another title page covered a small packet of pictures at the end.

"What's this, mom?" asked Kim.

On the page was emblazoned a family crest, that of a quail, a shield, and a gun. Below it were the words **O'Hara Family**.

"This is my family's pictures, Kim. This is my grandfather, Seamus O'Hara," she pointed at a squat man with a bald head and a gaudy mustache, his hands at his sides, standing next to a very tall man by comparison, who was holding a gun in one hand and toasting a beer in the other. "And this man next to him is none other than Michael Collins. Both of them participated in the Dublin Uprising of 1916. When Eamon De Valera went to America, my grandfather came with him, but remained in America looking for funds to support the rebellion. He was…a quiet man, but he seemed to keep getting involved with the wrong people, and was killed in New York by goons of the mafia."

A familiar beeping sound broke the mood. Kim said a quiet _thank you_.

"What's up, Wade?"

"Problem, Kim. Shego's not in prison."

"She escaped?"

"Um, not exactly. I don't know how to put this. You might want to get down to the prison and see for yourself."

"We're on it! C'mon Ron! See you later, mom!"

The two teens tore out of the room in milli-seconds, glad that they could finally get out of the awkward air that now sat around her usually cheery mother.

Mrs. Possible sat another moment with the book open, looking at her the few miniscule pictures that remained of her history. The Possibles were exuberant, outspoken, and lived by their wits. The O'Haras by comparison seemed lackluster and unimportant. At least, to a casual observer.

How could she tell Kim the dark secret that her family harbored? The one that she may someday have to live up to?

Mrs. Dr. Possible closed the photo book and headed downstairs to prepare dinner for her husband's arrival home.

* * *

"What the heck?"

It was all Ron could get out, looking into the cell which had once contained the elite mercenary/criminal Shego, now empty, except for a cot that was torn to pieces, a mirror smashed, and, in crimson splashes along the wall, a single word.

**Noir**.

"Possible."

Kim turned to find Global Justice agent Will Du motioning her to come away from the police officers and photographers around the scene. He was wearing a tan trench coat like detectives in old police movies, covering up his normal track suit GJ wears.

"Agent Du? What happened?"

"We don't know. Obviously, there was a struggle, but the guards on duty say they saw nothing over the cameras. When we checked, we found the security systems had been spliced so that a single frame of footage played over and over again, giving the attacker a window of almost forty-five minutes. None of the other inmates reported a sound. We've also found no traces of Shego or any piece of her body."

"Eewwww!" said Ron. Du merely shook her head.

"This must have been an inside job. GJ is investigating, but we'd like you to come in tomorrow for a bit."

"Huh? Why?"

"There are…things…which we need to talk to you about. We'll contact you about noon. Don't worry about finding us. We'll find you."

And with that, the agent turned to strode out of the prison.

"Weird?" said Ron.

"Mega-weird." replied Kim.

The sun was drooping low over the horizon as Ron Stoppable's scooter pulled up the Possible residence, dropping off the female passenger as they had done so many times before.

"Thanks, babe," said Kim, giving Ron a little peck. "Want to come in?"

"And see more of your mom's photos? I'll pass. Besides, my mom's making Motzaball soup, and I never miss it. See you tomorrow, KP."

Kim waved as her boyfriend took off. That is, took off at whatever speed the cheap scooter could give him, since it was never the same after prom night.

Moving swiftly to her room, stopping only to announce her presence to her mom and get a whiff of tonight's dinner, Kim dropped on her bed. Pondering today's events, that sinking feeling of uncertainty hung tight to Kim's gut. Did someone have a grudge against Shego? What was up with Du? And what did that word mean, Noir?

"Wade."

The computer popped on instantly, the ten-year old boy genius already prepared for anything electronic.

"Go Kim."

"Do a search on the word Noir, cross-reference it with Shego."

"Done, and done. Seems Noir is a popular name for assassins. Maybe Shego ran afoul of someone?"

"Then why call me in?"

"Maybe it was someone you've fought?"

"I've never fought anyone who could do something that horrible."

"Yeah, your usual rogue's gallery isn't exactly the type…hold up. You got a hit on the site. No name given though and the return address is… Osaka, Japan?"

"What does it say, Wade?"

"It says 'Take a journey into the past with me' and then an address and a time. Tomorrow night at eight. That's it."

Kim thought she was going to have a migraine. Too many unexplained things were coming at her too fast.

"Hey Kim!" One of her brothers was at the bottom of the stairs. "Come watch the Johnny Vapor movie with us!"

Kim breathed a sigh of relief. "We'll put it on the backburner, Wade. I've had a long day."

The movie was alright. It was a made-for-tv cartoon movie, about a boy who could become a spirit and had to fight ghosts, with a plot that only made sense to a twelve-year old boy hopped up on too much sugar. However, it took Kim's mind off of the crazy day, and the promise of even more insanity tomorrow. In the kitchen, the phone rang, and Mrs. Possible picked it up.

"Kim?"

"Yeah mom?"

"Phone call. It's Mrs. Stoppable."

Kim walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Kim, this is Ron's mom. Is he at your house?"

"No, he headed home after he dropped me off."

"When was that, Kim?" Her voice sounded tense and nervous.

"About an hour ago, I think. Why?"

"Kim…Ron never came home."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Mrs. Possible sat by the phone, as Mrs. Stoppable, currently being comforted by her husband, was in no condition to take the call that they all feared but hoped would not come.

Next to the phone, the Middleton Police Department had set up some equipment designed to trace calls, as well as a recorder to ensure any messages were precisely understood.

In the kitchen, Kim and her father sat with the Chief of Police and his sergeant, trying to understand where they stood with the believed kidnapping.

The Chief spoke slowly and with a gentle voice, trying his best to reassure the strongest members of the Possible-Stoppable clan.

"This whole deal is a scenario which Kimmophiles have been kicking around the internet for some time." He held out a large file filled with pictures taken off the internet of Kim and Ron.

"Excuse me," asked Mr. Dr. P., "Kimmophiles?"

This time it was the Sergeant who spoke up.

"Online crime has been booming since the beginning of the twenty-first century. One of the worst abuses of the internet is the evolution of recreational war games, secret chat rooms where individuals plan abductions or attacks against celebrities. It's the next level of stalking. We think someone went too far and actually went through with one of the plans."

Beep-beep be-beep!

Kim's communicator went off. Kim grabbed it like her life depended on it.

"Ron!"

Everyone in the room jumped. Kim's heart skipped a beat, but it settled down as she saw it was Wade.

"Kim, I need to speak to you. Alone."

"Oh, alright." Kim needed to get alone anyway. Mrs. Stoppable had bolted into the room at the mention of her son's name, and she looked like she was on the point of collapse.

Kim walked out into living room and turned the kimmunicator back on.

"What is it Wade? I'm busy."

"I just need to do a quick scan. Can you take one step to your left?"

Kim had absolutely no idea where Wade was going with this. As if she didn't have enough stress in her life already.

"Fine I'll –woah!" A hole had appeared at Kim's feet, and found herself falling into darkness.

"Wooaaahhhh!" Kim slid down a long, metal tunnel slide, traveling downwards like Alice into the rabbit hole. The hole opened up and Kim dropped into a much larger room filled with computers.

Falling about ten more feet, Kim landed hard on her behind on cold metal floor, a shot of pain going through her body. Directly in front of Kim, standing at the Global Justice main crisis control computer, Dr. Betty Director looked like she was on the verge of laughter. The scientists around her smirked as well.

Kim looked to her left and realized why. About six inches away was the plushy, cushioned chair which she was supposed to fall into. Kim stood up and rubbed her now sore bottom.

"Sorry, Kim. Someone must have moved the chair."

Kim grunted.

"Okay, the Danger Mouse routine so has to go. Can I get back to you later? We're kind of experiencing a family crisis here."

Dr. Director snickered.

"Oh, that's so cute that you consider Ron a part of your family now."

Kim was surprised.

"How did you…?"

Dr. Director's smile disappeared as she got down to business.

"We think that Ron's disappearance may coincide with Shego's. Someone's trying to get at Team Possible, and we're worried you might the next target."

"TARGET?"

A large computer behind Dr. Director flickered to life, showing a green graph of a home and the surrounding buildings around it. Kim realized it was a security graph of her home. Ominously, several red zones appeared around in the graph, while black dots flickered in each red area.

"We're not completely sure, but we're going to be posting extra security around your house and around you. You'll need to take a few precautions, of course; never go out alone, never take the same route twice, things which we'll brief you on. What I would also like to know, Kimberly, is whether you carry any sort of protection."

Kim's face blushed brightly, her head turning as bright red as her head.

Dr. Director rolled her eyes.

"Teenagers. I meant a weapon. It's my recommendation you learn how to use a firearm in the event of an emergency or if you go where GJ can't follow."

"I've always done things non-lethally."

"And against your usual villains, that would suffice. But, against this new villain, fancy moves may not cut it."

"See, that's the thing. You haven't even told me who I'm up against."

"Kim, we fear you've been marked by Noir."

"Noir? You mean, someone's hired an assassin?"

"Not just any assassin. We think it might be the true Noir."

"What do you mean, 'the true Noir'?"

"A lot of assassins take the name 'Noir' because they think its cool, but the true Noir has been around a lot longer, killed a lot more people, and is the deadliest assassin in the world. Now, you'd think being one of the world's best assassins, he'd be easy to track down. Not even close. No one knows who he is. No one has ever seen what he looks like, no one knows where he goes, and we can't even decipher how someone contacts him. We don't even know if he's a man or woman, one person or a group. All we know is that if someone hires the right Noir, the hit gets done no matter what, no witnesses, no evidence, nothing to trace back to the buyer. And that's why, when that name was found in Shego's cell, we feared for you, Kim. Please, let us help you. We'll teach you how to defend yourself, and we'll do everything we can to find Ron. Just trust us, please?"

"Alright."

"Good. We'll start your training right away, if you don't mind."

Laying on her bed, Kim glanced once again at the alarm clock. Forty-five minutes to five p.m. Most of her day had been spent being introduced to a .22 and the many uses of said weapon. Special Agent Du's lessons rang in her head.

_Look down the sight. Breathe and hold your breath before firing. Fire quickly, or else lack of oxygen will rattle the sight. _

The .22 sat on her desk, the clip out and no bullet in the chamber. Maybe she needed to adopt a code, no killing, like the Fearless Ferret who refused to use guns or kill. Then again, would this assassin, Noir, show her the same nobility?

Kim gave herself a small smack to the head. _The Fearless Ferret_! That was Ron's favorite show, not hers. She was amazed she even remembered that fact. It must have been the time she and Ron went to see _The Fearless Ferret Begins_. Even though it had been campy and predictable, Ron had really gotten into the whole honor thing, a lasting effect of his trip to Japan.

Kim's thoughts suddenly went back to that strange email. According to the IP address, it had come from a remote terminal in Japan. There was only one person Kim knew in Japan, and she really didn't want to see that person right now.

Kim took a look at her clock.

4:30 P.M.

Kim took another look at the ceiling and sighed. Grabbing her jacket and boots, she started out the door. Stopping at the mantle, she thought for a second, and then headed out.

The gun was still sitting on the desk.


End file.
